Forgotten For Decades, WWII Alaskans Finally Get Their Due

Frankie Kuzuguk, 82, gets a hug from his daughter Marilyn Kuzuguk at Quyanna Care Center in Nome, Alaska, after receiving an official honorable discharge and a distinguished service coin from visiting Veterans Affairs officials. The VA is still tracking down the few surviving members of the World War II Alaska Territorial Guard or delivering benefits to their next of kin.

Laban Iyatunguk, who served in the ATG, or "Eskimo Scouts," walks away from the Veterans of Foreign Wars hall in Nome, where VA officials from Washington, D.C., were trying to register ATG vets. Iyatunguk says he has waited years to take advantage of his VA benefits but found the application process too daunting.

For years, Clyde Iyatunguk has been waiting for benefits for his father, Laban Iyatunguk, who served in World War II with the Alaska Territorial Guard. Congress did not recognize ATG members as veterans until 2000.

David GilkeyNPR

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Originally published on May 29, 2013 6:43 am

Alaskan Clyde Iyatunguk grew up hearing stories about the U.S. Army colonel, Marvin 'Muktuk' Marston, who helped his father trade his spear for a rifle, to protect his homeland during World War II.

Marston is a household name with Native Alaskans. The nickname comes from an Eskimo eating contest — muktuk is whale skin and blubber, eaten raw.

After the Japanese reached the Aleutian Islands in 1942, Marston traveled by dogsled across Alaska looking for volunteers who knew how to fight and survive in the Arctic terrain.

"So Dad stood up and said, 'OK, we're Americans, what do we need to do?' " Iyantunguk recalls.

"Dad" is Laban Iyatunguk, now 82. He was only a kid, but he lied about his age and signed up for the Alaska Territorial Guard, or ATG.

"Being Alaskan, and here our enemies were down in Aleutians," says the elder Iyantunguk. "There was war. That was the war, you know?"

More than 6,300 Alaskan Natives volunteered for the ATG, or Eskimo Scouts. They never had to fight off a full-fledged invasion, but the ATG — who served without pay — did rescue a downed pilot and secured key airfields. The unit dissolved at the end of the war.

"ATG was almost [a] forgotten branch that took part in World War II," says Laban Iyatunguk.

Forgotten By The Government

The U.S. government certainly seemed to forget about them: It took until 2000 to get the ATG recognized as veterans, then several years more for the bureaucracy to start registering them for benefits. That registration packet came to Laban Iyantunguk in the mail

"They sent me a bunch of papers, big brown envelope about an inch thick," he says. "I just shoved the papers down under the TV, and they're still there."

Earlier this month, at the Veterans of Foreign Wars hall in Nome, Alaska, Laban and his son Clyde, along with other local veterans, met with a group visiting from the Department of Veterans Affairs in Washington, D.C. Clyde was keen to get his father signed up, but Laban Iyantunguk still found the red tape daunting and walked out.

"Oh, let 'em talk," he said as he crunched through the snow out to his pickup truck. "What good is paperwork gonna do? I been waiting and waiting and nothing's happened. What they doing? Waiting till we're 6 feet underground?"

Clyde promised to get his father registered; the potential benefits include a pension and a home loan, which he can pass to his wife.

Most ATG vets never got even that: Two of Clyde's uncles died before they could be registered for benefits. Of the more than 6,300, only dozens are still living, several of them in Nome. For a time, the Alaska State Office of Veterans Affairs concluded it had located all of the veterans, but every so often another family gets in touch with the office.

That was the case recently with Frankie Kuzuguk, who lives in a nursing home at the regional hospital in Nome. The 82-year-old sometimes has trouble remembering things, like when he joined the guard.

"I was stationed mostly in Anchorage. I can't remember the date — getting old!" he says.

Kuzuguk was speaking with a VA group from Washington, D.C., and Anchorage — they had come to give Kuzuguk his honorable discharge papers. The discharge is more than 60 years late, but it's necessary to classify Kuzuguk as a veteran. He also got a silver medal — a distinguished service coin — from the state. But it may have been the acknowledgment that matters most to him now.

"Mr. Kuzuguk has some periods of confusion, and what I can say is the one thing he always talks about ... is his time in the Army," says Christine Shultz, who directs social services at the hospital. "Having the military come and recognize him is the most important thing that could have happened."

Tommy Sowers, a senior VA official, handed Kuzuguk his discharge, and thanked him for his service.

"I'm very glad you guys are here today," Kuzuguk responded.

Even for those never recognized for their service in life one last benefit remains: a U.S. military headstone to mark their grave. At this point, it's the most common benefit delivered to the members of the Alaskan Territorial Guard.

Copyright 2013 NPR. To see more, visit http://www.npr.org/.

Transcript

MELISSA BLOCK, HOST:

From NPR News, this is ALL THINGS CONSIDERED. I'm Melissa Block.

ROBERT SIEGEL, HOST:

And I'm Robert Siegel.

It is a little known episode in American history. During World War II, the Japanese invaded and briefly held North American territory in the Aleutian Islands off Alaska.

In response, the U.S. Army created the Alaska Territorial Guard, or Eskimo Scouts: 6,000 volunteers who knew how to fight and survive in the Arctic terrain. It took half a century for these soldiers to get recognition as veterans. And now, there's a push to get benefits for the surviving members and their families. NPR's Quil Lawrence sent this report from Nome, Alaska.

QUIL LAWRENCE, BYLINE: Clyde Iyatunguk grew up hearing stories about the U.S. Army colonel who helped his father trade a spear for a rifle.

CLYDE IYATUNGUK: Colonel Muktuk Marston. Yes, he is a white colonel.

LAWRENCE: Colonel Muktuk Marston got his nickname after an Eskimo eating contest. Muktuk is sort of whale-skin bacon, but raw.

IYATUNGUK: During World War II, he came up to Alaska. America was being attacked by the Japanese, and if anybody wanted to volunteer, so Dad, you know, stood up and said OK.

LAWRENCE: Dad is Laban Iyatunguk, now 82. When World War II broke out, he was just a kid, but he lied about his age and signed up for the Alaska Territorial Guard, or ATG.

LABAN IYATUNGUK: Being Alaskan, and here our enemies were down in Aleutian. There was war. That was the war, you know?

LAWRENCE: The ATG never had to repulse an invasion. They did rescue a downed U.S. pilot and secured key airfields. The Alaska Territorial Guard dissolved at the end of the war.

IYATUNGUK: Well, ATG was almost kind of forgotten branch that took part in World War II.

LAWRENCE: Forgotten until the year 2000, when the Alaska Territorial Guard got veteran status. A few years later, Iyatunguk got a thick packet in the mail. He chucked it under the television. He and his son Clyde came to the VFW this month with other local vets to meet a group visiting from the VA in Washington. But Laban Iyatunguk still found the red tape daunting, and he walked out.

IYATUNGUK: What good paperwork going to do? You know, I've been waiting and waiting and nothing's happened. What they doing, waiting till we're six feet underground?

LAWRENCE: His son Clyde promises to get him registered, which could mean a pension and a home loan. Most ATG vets never got even that. Of 6,300 who served, only dozens are still living, several of them here in Nome. One of them, Frankie Kuzuguk, is just five minutes away from the VFW. He lives in a nursing home at the regional hospital.

CHRISTINE SHULTZ: Mr. Kuzuguk has some periods of confusion, and what I can say is that the one thing he consistently talks about is his time in the Army. Having the military come and recognize him would the most important thing that could have happened.

LAWRENCE: That's Christine Shultz. She directs social services at the hospital. Kuzuguk is 82. He also joined the guard young. The visitors from the VA came to present him with his honorable discharge. It's seven decades late. But that makes him eligible for benefits. Tommy Sowers, a VA official, gave him his papers.

TOMMY SOWERS: This is your discharge paperwork.

FRANKIE KUZUGUK: Thank you.

SOWERS: You want to smile for a photo?

KUZUGUK: I was in the United States Army, early days.

SOWERS: Yeah.

LAWRENCE: His youngest daughter, Marilyn, came for the ceremony.

MARILYN KUZUGUK: Dad, all these awards are for you. So that's why everybody is here...

KUZUGUK: Oh, yeah. OK.

KUZUGUK: ...to celebrate you serving.

KUZUGUK: All right.

KUZUGUK: Yep.

KUZUGUK: I'm very glad you guys are here today.

SOWERS: Thank you, Frankie. It's an honor to be here. Thank you for your service to your country.

LAWRENCE: Even for those never recognized for their service in life one last benefit remains: a U.S. military headstone to mark their grave. It's the most common benefit delivered to the members of the Alaska Territorial Guard. Quil Lawrence, NPR News.

SIEGEL: Tomorrow on MORNING EDITION, Quil has one more story from Alaska about the challenges of getting medical care to veterans in remote parts of the state. Transcript provided by NPR, Copyright NPR.